


Flowers and Curls

by Dark Stars (ivorybyrd)



Series: Escaflowne Prompts [13]
Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Dragonslayer centric, Drunk pranks, Drunkenness, Flower Crowns, Kinda?, M/M, Tangled up hair, Tricks, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorybyrd/pseuds/Dark%20Stars
Summary: A side fic to Festive. When the night has ended and everyone has come back to the floating fortress after a night of drinking and food, Miguel has a less than stellar idea for Viole while he sleeps.





	Flowers and Curls

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt for SewingYoukai on Tumblr for the OTP prompts! 
> 
> "I swear it was an accident."

 

A long night of overflowing wine glasses, tiny cakes and cookies of various flavors in Egazardia was exactly what they needed right before their first mission. Most of them came back drunk and stuffed with foreign delicacies that never existed in their Zaibach diets. 

Guimel came back with a bag of sweets that were quickly hidden away from everyone else’s greedy fingers. The few pieces he shared with Chesta had been the limit to his generosity. 

Chesta’s face was stained with the flush of wine and possibly too much of a springtime sun. The fatigue that came from a day full of simple pleasures lulled him to sleep as soon as his cheeks hit the pillow on his rack bed. 

A quiet blonde slayer skipped his door and made his way to a certain door that belonged to their commander with a stolen bottle to be shared. That commander was in a particularly good mood. 

The few that remained on board had already retired for the night, only to hear the story of the mysterious fire that broke out. Everyone would swear that it wasn't Dilandau this time, but everyone knew it was him. 

At least that’s a given, only someone had bumped into a torch and it had fallen into a crepe stand. Not only had the oil they used been knocked over, but the dozens of paper flowers and wraps had quickly caught and burned bright.

Miguel tripped into the shower stall. Keeping a hand and cheek to the cool walls to bring down his body’s heat as he slowly stripped down. He hadn’t yet started a professional drinking career when he was still a student. So the several cups of various wines, blushes, and meads that sloshed around in his stomach hit his brain hard and fast. He remembered eating some of the strangest things. Some good, some too strange to be bad, and others just terrible. 

He reached up with one hand and pulled off the crown of violets that had adorned his head. _Ironic_ , he thought. Their blue-purple color was pretty, and some had their petals trimmed in silvery-white. A few in the back, or at least where it was tied had a few white ones that had a sprinkling of purple and lavender spots and blotches. 

Ever so delicately he placed the ring of flowers on the hook meant for his towel and started to shower off. The cool water in the beginning helped him wake up a little. It was punishment for becoming a little lush in front of everyone and accidentally bumping into that torch. 

He sighed, his clumsiness struck again. Of course he was sure that Dilandau would probably take the credit. That was a given for anything involving fire. Though General Adelphos would probably not see it as an accident despite the Floren capital officials apologizing for the chaos they took blame for. The water turned hot, and the steam started to make his head heavy. He had to sweat it out or in the morning he’d be suffering the most. 

Cursing Gatti seemed reasonable; it was the blonde that kept pouring his drinks and then suggesting to the locals he needed more.

Miguel covered his mouth and tried not to waste the wine down the drain. He’d get into trouble because the floating fortress wasn't equipped with that good of filtration system. He took a deep breath, coughed and turned off the shower finally. He’d just sleep it off, if he could make it to his room. 

 _Towel, check. Around my waist and secured… no need to walk naked tonight._ He tried to keep his feet in check. He left his messy clothes in his locker to be sent to laundry the next morning, and took the crown of violets back to his shared room. 

Viole had passed on the party in Egazardia’s capital, Floren for an early night of reading and quiet. 

Somehow when you’re still drunk on wine and various other fruity alcohols, many of which foreign, it becomes incredibly hard to sneak into a room without waking the other. Miguel managed to get to his dressing closet and into his night time pants and shirt. Smart enough to sit his bare bottom on the floor like a child to avoid falling into a random piece of furniture. Only now he had to climb up into his top rack without making a sound in the already creaky metal beds. Or falling and possibly killing himself. 

His foot hit the crown of violets and Miguel quickly cursed and picked them up off the floor. 

 _Violets for… Viole._ He huffed out a laugh. Still silly drunk, he wondered if he could get away seeing Viole wake up with the crown rested on his head before the other realized it. 

Without much reasonable thought, Miguel ducked down and pulled a bit at the curtain that covered Viole’s rack. If he was careful, and held his breath he could sneak the crown on without waking the other. If he entered through the foot of the bed, he could pull this off without the clock light waking Viole.

His hand sunk into the mattress of his roommate’s bed; and slowly, but surely Miguel’s body hovered over Viole’s legs. The crown was stretched over Viole’s shoulder and gently placed on the side of his sleeping face. 

He remained that way, the layer of hair covering his face seemed to keep him from noticing the delicate flower crown. 

Miguel tried hard not to laugh, holding his breath the best he could as he reached again to push it further up Viole’s head.  He crawled more into the small space, and finally placed the crown in position. His head was pounding, and finally he let out a bit of a breath. 

Viole turned over to rest on his back, and the crown tipped to the side.

Miguel inwardly cursed, ready to call it a loss. It was too far out of reach. He’d have to disappear within the rack to get it now. The only footing he had was bent toes on the floor outside the curtain. 

He had to commit to it; the idea had been too perfect, and he’d never live it down if he failed. The color of the petals would compliment Viole’s dark hair, and his pale skin perfectly.

Crap, those thoughts were coming back. The more logical side had come back just in time for his last toe to leave the ground. He was possibly five seconds from waking Viole, who in his memory did not wake well. He was hovering over him.  Viole seemed more vulnerable in his sleep, and Miguel knew he was treading into dangerous territory by letting himself this close. 

His heart was beating too fast and his blood flooded into his ears. His hand that pressed into the bed was now going numb thanks to a pinched nerve and he still didn't have the flower crown in his other hand.

“What are you doing?” 

Miguel’s head hit the top of the rack, and he let out a long whine as he collapsed over Viole’s chest. “N-nothing.” 

Viole groaned and tried to move Miguel’s slack body from him. “Can you get off?” 

Miguel just moaned, his arm was asleep now and he was much too warm to move. 

“Miguel?” Viole asked, his heart had picked up speed as Miguel clung to him gently.

“Mnnn, talk in the mor—” Miguel snuggled up close, and gently kissed his cheek.

Viole allowed it for twenty minutes, he could smell the wine. If Miguel was this drunk it meant the others probably were as well. He checked the clock in the open area of the room, set above the door to find it not much past midnight. He let out a loud, frustrated sigh, hoping that Miguel would wake up. 

Nope, he only snored louder. 

Viole reached with one hand and pushed the other off his chest more. The restriction and the smell of wine made it hard to breathe, let alone try to go back to sleep. 

Something tugged at his hair when he tried to move, and he found something had caught in the waves and curls of his hair. Cursing, he reached to start the lamp. He found the ring of violets had tangled into the length of his precious hair. 

“Great,” he whispered, “Miguel…” 

The other slept soundly in response. 

 

Miguel woke to the smell of his own wine-drenched breath. The sun was still low into the horizon but the bit of light had already jumpstarted his post-drinking and sugar-coated migraine. 

When he turned in his bed his brain seemed to crash against the back of his skull and he let out a moan. He rolled once, then twice towards the edge of the bed. His feet hit the floor and the shock of cold reminded him where he passed out. 

Only Viole wasn't still in the bed. 

Shaking, Miguel slipped out and gently peeled back the curtain that covered his rack.

Viole was curled up around Miguel’s pillow, and a tangled mess of hair and flowers made the other dragonslayer look positively adorable. 

Only Miguel could muster up the dread of realizing what had happened. “V-viole?” 

Viole’s eyes snapped open. “Explain.” 

Miguel put up his hands, blushing some. “I swear it was an accident.”

Viole didn't seem convinced, but he slipped out of Miguel’s bed and tugged at the flower crown. “Get it out.” 

Miguel chuckled just a little at the mess of curls and wilted violets that somehow decided to become one in the night.  “Sorry for passing out on you,” he whispered.

“It’s fine… your bed was comfortable.” 

Viole sat on the floor; and Miguel, still a tiny bit drunk and still very hung over, kneeled behind him to get the nest untangled. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
